


To Watch Over You

by letsgobacktoMidnight



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, One-Shot, Pre-Relationship, healing arrow, people catching romantic feelings like colds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-12
Updated: 2017-06-12
Packaged: 2018-11-13 04:23:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11176950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/letsgobacktoMidnight/pseuds/letsgobacktoMidnight
Summary: A mission goes wrong, and Hanzo sees Dr. Ziegler after the incident.





	To Watch Over You

It has been a long time since he has truly felt fear. The wide expression of her eyes latched onto a part he didn’t know still breathed. Through the scar tissue and harden armor, she buries herself close.

The sharp sound of her wings gliding through the air still cuts into his chest.

He stands like a fool at her lab door. Unable to knock, unable to leave. The scene replays behind his eyelids, and he breathes out against the unforgiving barrier. Soft taps on a keyboard and an occasion squeak from a chair echo faintly from within, but he does not move his knuckles.

No one saw the lone Talon agent sneak behind. Mercy was further back, trying to join up with Reinhardt after helping Tracer back to her feet. Still, the distance was too much, and he only saw the enemy after she called for help. A bullet echoed after her voice. 

He drew his bow, but stalled as her Valkyrie suit flew her up to his perch. Moving nimbly out of the way, her hand touch his arm before he released the arrow. It struck the Talon agent dead.

Her lungs moved breathlessly behind him. A tear in the fabric upon her right arm showed blood, but it was simply a graze from a bullet. His hand almost reached out to her, before she gave him a gentle ‘ _danke_ ’. The wisps of hair, and ocean eyes stopped him still. he did not reach for her. He only nodded and watched her float to the ground. Once her feet safely touched the earth, he resumed his duty as sniper.

The blank canvas of the door mocks him. Vividly his mind runs wild with images of blood and blonde hair.

Pulling air deep into his lungs, he lets it out in a quiet grumble. It was chance she escaped, and luck that she didn’t not suffer something greater. The Talon agent should have been dead before he even neared Dr. Ziegler.

She shouldn't have been hurt. 

He knocks quietly, and waits. A moment later, feet are padding across the floor and opening the door.

Dr. Ziegler stands before him, firm and steady. Blonde hair falls messily in her eyes with the rest being pulled back. A white lab coat covers her black under suit, and faint smudges of makeup decorate underneath her eyes, making the dark circles look even more so.

“Shimada-san?” She speaks quietly, the late hour conscious in both their minds. Her intelligent eyes look over his form, satisfied with finding no blood or broken bones. “It’s late. Is everything alright?”

He holds her gaze for a moment, parting his lips. They are not the same, complete opposites in fact. Their hands have done very different works.

“Dr. Ziegler.”

Her presence shouldn’t shine near his bloody hands and broken words.

“The mission today,” he starts, finding his own tongue. “Such a foolish incident will not happen again.”

Her brow knits together as she crosses her arms across her chest. No concentration touches her brow as she already knows of what he speaks of. It’s not of anger or judgement, but of concern.

“No one saw that agent, Shimada-san. Not even Tracer.” Her gaze is light and steady, voice soft. “You can’t take responsibility for the unfortunate circumstance.”

He tightens his brow, hard and immovable. Neither confirming nor denying her statement, he holds her gaze. Strong hands curl into fists at his side.

“It won’t happen again.”

A tired smile brushes against her lips as her hand tucks a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. Elegant, even when she is weary and hardly able to stand on her feet. For a brief moment, he wonders how often she actually gets the rest she needs.

Mercy breathes in quietly, a sigh touching the air.

“You can’t promise that,” She states. “Situations get out of hand all the time, whether we want them to or not.”

Shifting, and rolling up her coat sleeve, she reveals her wound. A small, skin tinted bandaged touches her arm. It easily hides the graze the bullet gaze her. The wound itself isn’t even bigger than the size of his palm.

It could have easily been directed a few more inches close. Clipped her ribcage or buried into her heart. All because he foolishly let his focus only stay ahead.

“But that’s why I’m here, to watch over you.” She displays the bandage, watching his expression and waiting for a response. Perhaps for him to become calm, but his curled fingers and tighten muscles do not loosen.

As if it is nearly nothing that she was almost killed.

“And who watches over you, Dr. Ziegler?” Almost like when he saw her early on the battlefield, breathless and lightly bleeding, his hands long to reach out to her. To let his fingers trail around the bandage. To feel her breath and warmth and know that she is still here. That the injury is nothing, and her heart will keep beating.

“You do.” So soft spoken, he questions if he hears the doctor right.

Reading his unprotected expression for a moment, she corrects herself. “You did today. You covered my retreat. I couldn’t have gotten away if you weren't there.”

His eyes narrow, unconvinced, but she covers her mouth as a small yawn escapes her. Gracefully turning away for a moment, she looks back into her lab.

“It is late.” She says softly. “I think rest is in order for you, Shimada-san.”

He almost scoffs. “How can a doctor say that and not follow her own care?” It’s late for both of them. Many a times her footsteps have awaken his paranoid sleep when padding down to her own room at four in the morning. The dark under circles painting her skin look deep and stained. If anyone deserves rest, it’s her.

A defeated breath leaves her lungs, sleep touching her voice.

“I suppose I can finish those papers tomorrow.” Widening her door, and half turning her body away, she tells him goodnight.

“Doctor,” his bold soul shocks his own tongue, “Let me make sure you keep to your word.”

An eyebrow arches high, a sharp dare lying on her tongue. "Do you not trust me?"

He wants to scoff again. In the last ten years, she is the only soul he has ever come close to feeling safe around. Perhaps even trust.

"You are a dedicated doctor. It would be easy for you to be sidetracked by your work." He gives as his answer, feeling his stomach clench in anticipation to her slamming the door or telling him promptly to leave. 

Her body stills, blonde hair framing her face in soft yellows as she searches him. Shining blue eyes engulf him in a flowing river, before she gives a soft nod of her head.

“One moment.”

He lets go of a breath he didn’t know he was holding. At least he can be sure she retires to her bed tonight. His words hold genuine concern. Someone as dedicated as she could be distracted by one unfiled paper and end up typing the last of her reports just as the sun rose in the sky.

She reappears, lab coat gone, and closes the door. Looking up to him, she holds his eyes for a moment before stepping forward. He falls alongside her, strides nearly matching.

Dim hallways fill their journey. Footsteps muffled by the carpet continue along as he keeps his gaze straight ahead. A gentle smell of camellia comes off of her, as well as aseptic. Their pace is slower to what he is used to, but her weary legs give her away. With the shadows under her eyes, what sleep she gets must only be enough to keep her on her feet. He frowns inwards at this, displeased at the doctor not caring for herself as she should. Still, it does not stain her beauty nor her ability. Strong and capable in every way it seems. A strand of hair falls forward, into her eyes, and he almost tucks it back behind her ear.

His hands stay steady and closed.

Her door is at the end of the hall, past his. Coming to a silent stop, Mercy offers another tired smile. He lets his gaze lighten, at least for a moment.

“Thank you, Shimada-san.” She whispers, well aware of the other sleeping inhabitants.

He gives a small bow of his head. “ _Oyasumi_ , Dr. Ziegler.”

They hold gazes for a moment, a sheer emotion suddenly bubbling up in her eyes. The intensity throws his balance away as he can only stare. Camellia overwhelms his senses. 

The ocean searches his soul.

“Take care of yourself…” 

And leaves him with nothing but saltwater cracking his lips. 

Slipping inside her room, she closes the door with a faint click. Hanzo remains, rooted to the spot by her words alone. Losing coherent thought, he stares at her blank door. A warmth like the sun dawns inside his chest, touching his bones and lungs. He breathes in, tasting rose petals on his tongue.

A calm air settles around him as he dreams that night. 

**Author's Note:**

> Oyasumi — Good night
> 
>  
> 
> come say hi to me at hackthehighnoon.tumblr.com!


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